Chapter Eight
The dawn broke pale and brittle over Blackthorne Manor, casting a silver sheen over the frost-kissed grounds. Eveline stood at her window, her breath fogging the glass as she watched the sun rise with the heaviness of impending dread pressing on her chest.
A gentle knock stirred her from her thoughts. Miss Harper entered, her expression grave yet composed.
"The constable has arrived, Miss," she murmured. "Lord Blackthorne requests your presence in the drawing room."
Eveline nodded, smoothing her skirts and steadying her breath. She found Nathaniel already deep in discussion with Constable Langley, a stout, fair-haired man with shrewd eyes. Julian and Thomas flanked him, both wearing matching expressions of wary alertness.
Langley cleared his throat as Eveline entered. "My lady, it appears this Mr. Harrow has left London. Our sources say he may be seeking refuge in the countryside, though where exactly, we do not yet know."
Nathaniel's lips pressed into a thin line. "And the letters?"
Langley shifted uneasily. "Delivered by hand, sir. The man has allies or perhaps hired men. Whoever he is, he's well funded."
The meeting adjourned with no firm answers, only renewed resolve. As the day unfolded, Eveline found herself gravitating toward the small garden she and Nathaniel had walked weeks before. To her surprise, she discovered Miss Harper seated there, Julian beside her. They spoke quietly, hands nearly touching.
Eveline paused, a gentle smile on her lips. She knew that amidst the darkness, these fleeting moments of tenderness must be cherished.
---
That evening, a grand masquerade ball took place at the neighboring Ashbourne estate. It had been planned for months, and despite the recent dangers, Nathaniel insisted they attend. "Normalcy," he murmured to Eveline as he adjusted his black velvet mask, "even if only for a night."
Eveline, radiant in sapphire silk and delicate lace, entered on his arm. The candlelit ballroom glittered with opulence: gilded chandeliers, silk banners, and guests masked in every hue of velvet and silk.
As the orchestra swelled, Nathaniel guided Eveline into the waltz. The world around them faded, leaving only the brush of her fingers on his and the weight of his steady gaze.
"You enchant me, Eveline," he whispered.
Her heart, already undone by his nearness, fluttered wildly. "And you have captured mine," she breathed.
As they danced, Miss Harper shared a quiet moment on the terrace with Julian. Beneath the lantern glow, he took her hands in his. "I may not have lands or titles," he murmured, "but I would cross oceans to win your heart."
Tears shone in her eyes as she answered, "You already have."
---
But the night's enchantment would not last.
As midnight struck, a masked figure slipped through the crowd. Eveline, catching sight of the glint of steel beneath a coat, gasped. "Nathaniel—!"
Too late. The intruder moved swiftly, hurling a note to the ground before vanishing into the throng. Chaos erupted. Nathaniel shielded Eveline as Julian and Thomas pursued the figure into the night.
The note was retrieved and opened with trembling fingers. Its words were simple:
"I am closer than you think. The clock is ticking."
The masquerade was over.
And the real dance had begun.